Breathe
by MavisK
Summary: In and out. How else do we breathe? We calm ourselves, gripping to the thin fabric of reality, holding onto the ones we love and even the ones we don't. Katniss Everdeen has suffered everything, doing this the entire time. In and out. What's next? Find out in this chilling fanfiction based on Suzanne Collin's books (I own nothing)
1. Chapter 1

Hands, touching hands. My breath falls and rises with the beat of your heart, our matching hearts side by side. My eyes travel up your chest to look into yours, my lips resting against your shoulder. I wish this moment could last forever. I wish my hair could lay across the pillow, my breath against your cold neck and my palms pressed to yours. But it won't always be like this.

Someday I will have to die.

0o0

I was meant for execution the day I was reaped, young and tired in that pale blue dress. My nerves were terrible than, but now I can face whatever without fear. War does something to you. It hurts you, then something heals you. Then war opens the wound again, even more painful than the first time as it thrusts you back into the bloody massacre. Without mercy, it drags you kicking and screaming to your doom as a knife or a bullet stretch your skin in half and force you on your knees, finally defeated.

I was convinced I could survive happily. Oh, I was so very naïve, thinking I could just dodge the pain with a quick arrow to the heart. But I was wrong from the moment I thought of that. I was just a little girl, panicked and trying to keep my family safe, hoping my death would come quickly. But I have gone through so much more agony than I bargained for; mocked and spit on by the Capitol; shaped and sculpted by President Snow. It's tiring, this life of tears and blood.

That was until the baby.

Oh sweet beautiful thing, with huge blue eyes and soft blonde tufts on her head. Sweet thing with smooth pearly skin and tiny fingers, clasping round my big rough ones. Beautiful angel, with her occasional smile and laugh; her eyes widening as I uncovered my eyes to see her once again. Her name is Willow, like the trees that grow behind the house. She swayed into my life like a soft branch, anchoring me from a stormy sea to a place of calm in Peeta's arms. Her sweet smell brings me back to earth as she grips my hand and nuzzles against my chest.

We're happy I suppose. The happiest we can be, considering my sister and Peeta's family are dead. Death is such a funny thing; the certain people it chooses.

0o0

I clasp Peeta's hands as we lie side by side, the morning wind chilling us from the window to our bed. We were both up late with Willow, as she sobbed and clenched at anything safe. I couldn't bear to look at her tear stricken face so Peeta held her close and stood by the window, humming some unrecognizable song. I watched him, my sheets tucked around my body, my hair in that messy braid.

We're living in a cottage now. I couldn't bear to move to the Capitol so they made Plutarch president and let us be. It's a great house, with running water and an electric stove. It reminds me of my old home, which makes me calm when I'm doing anything around the house. We have a dining table and a kitchen; even a small couch and a rocking chair. I put a few paintings on the walls and we painted up the bedrooms, keeping the main area exposed brick. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Peeta is the most amazing husband anyone could ask for. He's almost always home, except when he takes long trips to town. In the ruins of District 10, they built a small town with a grocery store and many thatch-roof houses. It's a good place, but I rarely ever go. Peeta always shops and sells, making enough money for us to be content. I make small things to sell, knitted or sewed. We're doing okay.

Better than dying.

0o0


	2. Chapter 2

I scrub the small pot, my hair dangling in front of my face. My braid lays against my shoulder, the thick hair rubbing against my cheek as I fight at the grease. I struggle to keep my eyes open, knowing I've got several hours until I will finally get to sleep and fend away nightmares. Willow lays on the couch with Peeta, his hands dangling a homemade rattle above her head teasingly.

"Get it," he says sweetly, his dirty hands shaking it. He spent all day out in the woods, collecting food. The shops were closed for Sunday and we would've starved unless he hadn't found the berries and fresh water. The creek is always brimming with fish, but today our luck was low.

I untie my apron and curl up next to him, taking a turn with the rattle to tease Willow. She laughs, her little voice echoing across the almost furniture-less room. I hold out my finger and she grabs it, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"Ready for bed?" whispers Peeta, even though he has no need to be quiet.

"Yes," I say and we get up from the couch. I fall asleep by him, Willow in my arms, ignorant of the crib across the room.

0o0

Our days pass the same as any should. Until one Saturday evening, when the rain is pounding against our little house and thunder rumbles above, keeping anyone sane inside. But we still get a visitor, soaking wet and cloaked at our doorstep. Haymitch.

"How've you been?" The four of us sit at the table, Willow in my arms. Haymitch looks awful, with his usual scars and messy hair. He flicks at a chip on the wood table, his hands torn and weak looking.

"We're okay," says Peeta, squeezing my hand. "Spending plenty time here." The tone in his voice; is it contempt? I ignore this.

"Have you been hunting?" Haymitch asks me.

"I don't hunt anymore," I say, shifting Willow in my arms. "I can't."

"You should go out, it'd be good for you."

"It would not."

"Anyway, I came to talk to you about threats. Plutarch got a few letters, dangerous anonymous ones. He says people already want the old Capitol back since they've had to share their resources."

"That's ridiculous," says Peeta, "They're just greedy."

"They went from riches to middle class dump," says Haymitch, "They have every right to feel angry."

"They shouldn't be so stuck up about sharing with the poor," I say, "We had nothing."

"Well they are, and they're rebelling."

"What are they going to do?"

"We don't know yet."


	3. Chapter 3

I can't function, can't breathe. My old scars seem to throb again, as if they're reminding me of what I went through. I clench the table with my free hand, keeping the other around Willow securely. I know I won't survive another war. We'll have to talk to these rebels; figure something out. Maybe we can make some sort of agreement to give them better jobs. But then it just shows we aren't their boss and they'll do whatever.

"Peeta?" I look over at him. He looks tired with purple circles under his eyes and his strong hands hanging weakly at his side. "We should talk to the rebels," I add, "Show them we're still boss and show them that nothing will get better if they rebel."

"We can try to make some sort of agreement," says Haymitch, "But they're angry Katniss."

"I'm sure I can do something," Peeta speaks up. "I've always been okay in front of crowds."

"It's settled then," I say, ignoring the nervous lurch in my stomach. "Get them gathered somewhere Haymitch, then bring us some news. Peeta will get ready."

0o0

Days pass slowly, with the usual chores and time together. I realize how dull our life has been since the end of the war, and almost go find my bow again. That old adrenaline tries to pump it's way up but I just hold Willow close, reminding myself that she is my number one priority. And I'm still shaken anyway. The nightmares plague me, I never feel alone and my mother never visits. Last I heard she was in the ruins of District 5, burying herself in work at the new city connecting with 6. It sounds lonely but I can't write to her without knowing exactly where she is. Instead I clasp my hands together and whisper all the things I'd say if she were here.

Peeta comes through the door late one evening, a stack of books in his arms and a bag of food round his shoulder.

"I didn't know you went to town," I say, taking the books. I put Willow in her homemade baby chair at the table and turn to kiss Peeta. His lips are rough and unrecognizable to me, but those hands rubbing up and down my back keep my mind at a peaceful bay. Willow giggles in her chair and I feel a burst of happiness. I lay out the food, making little faces at her while she laughs away, her unknowing brain filled with glee. We have soup and bread, both a little plain tasting but better than nothing. I add plenty of salt to each bowl and serve it to Peeta and myself. Willow sits at the table, but I already gave her dinner earlier. I sip my soup, my hair dangling in front of my face. Peeta pushes it away then takes my hand, rubbing it softly like he does when I'm nervous.

"What?" I say, pulling away a little. "I'm fine."

"You aren't, you're better than fine," he says, smiling. "I can tell. You're happier."

"Do I seem so?"

"Yeah. Maybe you should go hunting."

"Peeta, I can't."

"Then how will you defend yourself against a bunch of rebels?"

"I can talk."

"Talking doesn't always work."

"It might. Especially if it's you doing the talking." He sighs and picks up our bowls; taking them to the kitchen.

"We'll have to see how many people they actually have," he mumbles.

0o0

The next day, early morning when Peeta is still asleep, I run to the hall closet. I toss aside towels and extra cans of food to find the one thing I haven't laid hands on for over a year. My bow. I hold its rich wood in my hands, turning it over repeatedly. I run my hands along the feathered arrows, soft against my calloused skin. It's practically begging me to go outside and shoot just one arrow. Just one won't hurt. I grab my father's hunting jacket and throw it over my long sleeved shirt; slipping on my boots and heading out into the small flurry of snow. I grip the bow, an arrow tight and ready in the hold. My hands are shaky with cold and I wish I'd brought some gloves for the ice. I load my arrow tighter and hold up the bow, aiming at a small hill of grass. Pull back- release. I close my eyes and hear the perfect chink as it breaks the earthy surface and cuts into grass and mud. I open my eyes, taking a gulp of air and getting my bearings.

My first arrow shot in a very long time. That's something to celebrate. Grinning, I run over and pull it out, shaking the dirt off the tip. I tuck it back into my bow and shoot again, this time at a different hill. The woods whisper with wind amongst the big willow trees, making me take in their beauty as well as their smell. The trees don't seem like an enemy, or a reminder; they're just an old friend, with that reassuring smile or touch of the hand.

Until I hear Peeta scream my name.

A/N

Please review and tell me what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

"Peeta?" I cry, sprinting through the trees, my arms pumping at my side as I search for my husband. "Peeta!" I see the house and run harder, my breath starting to shorten. "Peeta?" I gasp. The house, looking peaceful and serene at first, practically rumbles at my arrival, the door bursting open with a crack. I jump back, my bow loaded and arrow tight. Someone runs out, covered in black clothes, carrying some small bundle.

Then I hear the baby cry.

"No!" I scream, shooting an arrow at the foreigner. I miss and realize I could hit Willow if I manage to get one into the enemy's skin.

"Stop!" I scream, breaking into a run. I hurry after them but it's no use as they find their horse and climb on. But I don't stop. I push on, my boots thudding into the frozen ground.

"Katniss!" Peeta's arms are around me at once, holding me back. "Don't, you can't catch them."

"I can!" I struggle against him, my arms reaching out for my child to come back. "P-please!" But as the tears come, Peeta keeps his hold on me. The horse gallops away, jumping over the river and into the thick part of the forest. I sob, my whole chest heaving as I collapse in Peeta's arms, wanting nothing more than to kill every single rebel who even thinks about touching Willow.

0o0

Peeta calls Haymitch and a hovercraft arrives, but late that night, our search team comes back with nothing. Plutarch is among them and he, Johanna, and Haymitch stay for dinner. I lie in bed the whole time, listening to their hushed conversation and plans. I can't focus on anything except that I need my child back in my arms. What will they do to her? How did she even leave Peeta's arms? I don't even have to ask, because at one in the morning, our guests leave and my husband comes in to explain.

"I turned my back for one second," he whispers, his face white as a sheet. "I just had to grab a piece of bread, I was starving for breakfast. If I'd kept her in the bedroom, she might've been safe. But I brought her out and…they came in through a window, one started fighting me and the other snatched her away. I…oh Katniss, I killed one of them…I just grabbed a kitchen knife and I meant to scare him but he just kept coming closer. He wasn't even armed. It was like he wanted me to. So I did. And while I was busy, someone ran away with our baby. I tried calling for you but…"

"I heard you," I say, my whole body shaking from listening to his horrifying story. "I c-could've been faster."

"They'll search all night," he says, taking one of my hands. "And if that doesn't work, in a couple days they'll send in ground troops."

"Okay," I say, my voice barely a whisper. I lay back on my pillow, knowing full well I won't sleep tonight. The little reassuring lump of heat between Peeta and I is gone, but she means so much more than that. She's like a rock, which Peeta can't be anymore. I don't know why things have changed, but I need my child back, for her safety and for our family's.

0o0

I don't sleep at all and when I finally give up on trying, my heart aches with longing for Willow. They could be torturing her, feeding her moldy foods, even getting ready to kill her. The thought drags me to my senses and I am up at once, my breath fast and short. I have to get to her. I climb out of bed as slowly as I can, not making a sound as I pull on my jacket and swing my bow and sheath of arrows onto my back. I would take Peeta, but he'd only slow me down. I have the familiarity of the woods to guide me and I count on my little compass as well. I pack a small waist bag of bread and water, and also the smallest toy I can find; a rattle. I don't know why I am bringing this but it makes me feel calmer, like Willow's laugh could emit from it any second.

I braid my hair to the side, tucking a winter hat over it and pulling on my thick boots. It'll be cold but I am determined to make it there before the sun sets today. I check the time: six in the morning. The sun isn't rising, so I guess a cloudier day is ahead. I take one last look at Peeta's sleeping figure, his hand resting where mine should be holding it. I bite my lip, hesitating but then giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

I head out the front door, my boots crunching against newly fallen snow and my jacket protecting me from the fierce wind. I follow our trail for a while, peering through the darkness and trying not to be afraid. I wonder if they'll be expecting me. Like they're using her for ransom and they just haven't sent us a note yet. Or if they know I will save her like this; alone. I breath into my cold hands, walking like I'm on a casual stroll, but keeping my eyes peeled for threats. I'll have to cross the river soon, but I'm not looking forward to that. It's probably only half frozen and I don't have a horse to jump it for me.

_It's for Willow, _I think to myself, _You can do this for her. _I break into a run, watching the trees on my right so I don't miss the river. Then it's there, like it knows I'm ready. I sit down at the side, watching the rushing water, ice chunks flowing with it. I grab some of my bread and break it in half, nibbling on the already cold piece. I fill up some water and drink it down, filling it again for later. I close my eyes for a fraction of a second, trying to gather my bravery so I can jump this stupid thing.

"You won't be able to jump it." Someone speaks behind me and I am on my feet, arrow loaded. I ready myself to shoot, but then realize who it is.

"Gale?"


	5. Chapter 5

I almost feel like letting the arrow go. Then I compose myself and lower it, taking a few steps back.

"You just like to surprise me, don't you?" I snap, not letting him shake me up. He looks older, with his old scars and tanned skin. His hair is dirty and longer, with bits of blood and dirt mixed into the brown. His eyes look tired but he's still got a smile, cut in half by a slice in his lip.

"You look awful," I say when he doesn't answer; just standing there smiling stupidly.

"So do you," he says, "Thought you were gonna shoot me there for a second."

"I could've."

"Nah, I know you Catnip and I know you would never."

"Don't push my buttons Gale." It feels weird to say his name, like it's a forbidden word. "Why are you even here?"

"I heard from a little birdy," he says, "And by birdy I mean Haymitch- that someone kidnapped Willow." A lump in my throat forms but I swallow it down, gripping my bow tighter.

"Yeah," I say, "I couldn't wait to leave. They were going to the ground troops in a few days."

"So like you. You never run from a fight."

"I've been better," I say, "I didn't hunt for over a year."

"That sounds awful."

"Now that I look back, it kind of was. But I had the baby." Why are we talking so casually? I should be pinning him to the ground, holding an arrow over his head. He killed my sister.

"How's your mother?" he asks, as if reading my thoughts. His face goes from childish to guilty, his eyes clouded with memories even he won't try to relive.

"She's busy," I say, "Drowning herself in work. Why do you ask?"

"You know why I'm asking," he says softly, "Katniss; you don't know how sorry I am. I didn't know- I don't even know if it was me."

"Gale, I'll never forgive you," I answer, feeling my old self coming back a little. "But maybe I can be around you like a normal person."

"Forget normal," he says, "Go ahead, claw my eyes out." I stare at him, my eyes dragging themselves up from the ground.

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you should hate me."

"I don't hate you."

"Yes you do, I can tell. Course, you also feel bad because it wasn't my fault." He was always so good at reading my feelings.

"Okay, fine," I say, "You want me to hate you?"

"No, I just know you do. Now let me help you cross the river and I'll be out of your sight."

"Why are you even here?"

"I had to see you." I try to stare beyond his eyes, into his mind; to see what he's really thinking. But I'm not Gale. I can't read people's minds.

"Okay, let's cross it," I say, swinging my bow round my back and replacing my arrow in its sheath.

"We'll have to swing," he says, giving me a small smile. "There's tons of vines on the trees by it."

"What if they snap?" I say, heading to the edge and inspecting one.

"Well then we're dead," he says simply. I stare at him for a few seconds then grip onto one and pull it hard. Pretty strong.

"I'll take this one," I say, my teeth starting to chatter from the mix of cold and nerves. Gale nods and grabs his own, pulling on it quickly.

"Sturdy here," he says, "You ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," I say. My mind is overwhelmed with meeting up with Gale, and having to cross an icy death patch. I step back, my hands tight round the vine and my bow stuck round my chest. I go before Gale, with a running start and a kick off from the side. I swing through the cold air, feeling the splash of the water fly up on my legs, chilling me to the bone. The swing ends quickly and I know I'll fall back, so I release the vine and jump to the shore, landing hard on a patch of ice. Safe. I scramble to my feet, my hands hurting from gripping so tight and landing on them. Gale is still on the other side; he gives me a reassuring wave. I wave back, stretching my sore fingers.

He clings to the vine and runs backwards, then kicks forward to fly across. Going, going, and it snaps right over the shore.

"Gale-!" I barely get his name out as he flies towards the ground and slams into it, his face first.

"Oh god," I mumble, stumbling over to him. I shake his limp body right as his eyes fly open.

"I'm fine," he groans, sitting up. "Hit my chest kind of hard but I'm fine."

"Thank god," I say, sitting back on my knees. "So what happens now?" Gale looks at me, his steady eyes fixated on mine.

"I probably won't see you again," he says, "I'm headed to 1, they're almost done with the town and they'll have lots of jobs open. I figure I get one there, find somewhere to live…"

"You won't be able to handle it," I blurt out, "There will be nowhere to hunt. You'll crack after the first week of whatever boring job you get." He gives me a sad smile.

"You could always read me pretty well, when you wanted to," he says, "I wondered why you'd marry someone you barely knew."

"I've known Peeta for years," I mumble, heat rising to my cheeks. I had hoped we were avoiding this conversation.

"You knew me longer," he says, like he's not in front of me right now, still my companion. "But you chose him. Why?" I open my mouth to answer, then change my mind and jump to my feet.

"Are you coming or not?" I say, my voice sharp and bossy.

"I'll come," he says, "You can't do this alone. I already killed one Everdeen." I fight back tears and punch him hard in the shoulder.

"What?" he looks at me fiercely, his teeth gritted against the pain of the blow.

"Don't give me that," I snap, fixing my bow round my chest. "Let's just go." The thicker part of the forest looms ahead, dark and foreboding.

"Lovely place," says Gale sarcastically. He looks at me for a laugh but I don't oblige. Not after what he said about Prim. Willow still grips to my mind like honey, but Prim often enters uninvited, her round pale face and bright blue eyes reminding me of everything wrong I've done. I often see her in my nightmares. Those are the ones which I always wake up crying to.

0o0

The hike is long and treacherous, constantly up and down hills and through rocky areas. Gale says he has no idea where we're going but I tell him it doesn't matter.

"I'll walk for months to find her," I say. That ends the conversation rather quickly. The temperature drops at sunset; so when we get cold, we make camp for the night. I realize I didn't reach my goal of getting to her by the time the sun went down and this disheartens me for a long time. Gale makes us a fire and I break the bread into equal pieces. We drink and eat, both exhausted from a lack of lunch and rest. I finish my food but leave some water for tomorrow.

"We've got a bit of bread left," says Gale, "Enough for two meals maybe."

"We'll have to eat less then," I say, "I don't know how much longer it'll be."

"What is our destination again?"

I roll my eyes, "I don't know; this is just where the rider went. I wish I had a way to follow his scent or tracks but I don't." Gale sighs and lays back on the mossy ground, his long hair spread out against the dirt.

"What happened after I left?" he asks softly as I lay down next to him. "After Prim and Snow?"

"I tried to kill myself," I say, "They sent me away with Peeta and we had our child. We got married, just the two of us together. Plutarch was elected president." I glance at my ring finger, a medium wooden ring around it. Peeta carved it for me, then proposed at dinner.

"Sounds like the most boring life ever," says Gale, stretching his arms up. "I helped the Districts."

"Yeah, I know," I say, "But if I were to try and do that, I would've had a mental breakdown every hour."

"You were that messed up?"

"I couldn't go very long without crying," I admit, "It was like I was dying but my heart didn't stop beating." Gale reaches for my hand but I pull away, rolling to my side.

"I'm sorry," I say softly, "I can't."

Neither of us sleep at all.

0o0

A/N

Please review and tell me what you think so far! Thanks!


	6. Chapter 6

When I wake up, Gale is still asleep, his hands rested by his sides. I make a small fire and rip up some more bread. The morning cold makes my spirits low as I think about where Willow could be. She has to be alive; they wouldn't just kill her for no reason. I grip my bread, turning it into crumbles in my palm. I toss the rest in my mouth and wash it down with a gulp of water. Gale is still sleeping, so I press my hand into his back and shove him softly.

"Mmph?"

"We should get moving," I say, tossing him a piece of bread.

"Thanks," he says, catching it and taking a small bite. We both know how to survive on little food, but since being fed well at home, my stomach rumbles for more.

"It's going to rain," says Gale, pointing up to the dark clouds already covering the sky.

"Can you feel it in your knee old man?" I joke. We both laugh, my cheeks hurting from unused muscles. For a moment, it's like old times, sitting in the woods before hunting and laughing with my best friend. The thought quiets me. It can't be old times. I get up and put out the fire, putting my water and extra food away in the bag.

"You okay?" asks Gale. I know he won't try to comfort me again with a touch, but I turn around defensively anyway.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I say, forcing a small smile. We leave the clearing, heading into darker woods. I hate the feeling in here, like something bad is bound to happen every second. I want to load my arrow, but I don't want Gale to know I'm frightened. Have I lost my edge since having Willow? My aim is perfect but my senses are off. I barely noticed the clouds this morning and the rain doesn't appear in my eyes until minutes after Gale realizes it.

"We need some sort of shelter if it gets bad," he says, "I recognize this area."

"You do?"

"Yeah, there's District 3's new town near," he says, "They're calling it Anderson."

"Let's go," I say. Gale leads the way down a muddy hill and through the quickening rain to a small town, with homes and shops complete with thatch roofs. Smoke rises from the many chimneys, each one looking like a single-room. I tug my coat round closer, shivering as the wind blows in from the south.

"There," says Gale, pointing to a small pub. It's door opens before we reach it and a drunken man stumbles out, cackling into his bottle. I edge by him, ducking into the warm room. People roam about, carrying cups or bottles of alcohol, sitting down at random tables and joining in poker games. Gale claims us a booth in the back, then says he'll get us drinks.

"You have money?" I ask.

"Yeah, course," he says, pulling a small bag out of his pocket. "I told you; I had a job." I just nod and go back to staring at the wooden table. I take a glance around the pub, seeing many different ages of men, all drinking or tossing dice. It's pitiful. I see a blonde haired man and do a double-take, then realize it couldn't be Peeta. My thoughts fade to him, probably doing whatever he can to find Willow and I. He won't stop searching, I know. Perhaps if I'd brought him along, Gale wouldn't even be here. I know there's no choice to make between them, but Gale's small flirty smiles and trying to hold my hand really confuse me.

Gale brings me a small cup of beer and he takes whiskey. We sit in silence, dripping in our wet clothes on the wooden booth seat. I am warm in here since the fireplace is nearby, but it will take too long to dry.

"I don't like that guy," says Gale, nodding his head to a small table with a hooded person sitting at it. "I think he's out for us."

"Should we leave?" I whisper with a smile, trying to look desperately casual to the stranger. My heart races as Gale nods and drinks down the rest of his whiskey. I slide from the booth, almost sure the hooded man can see my hands shaking. My body is reacting all too nervously, but I keep my mind calm with the soft breath of Gale right behind me. We walk past tables and booths, my hands ready to grab my bow at any second.

Then the unimaginable happens.

Every single person in the pub stops. They just stop, their eyes all shifting to us. Their cards drop, their drinks shatter. My breathing stops for a few seconds as one of the larger men puts his grimy face up to mine.

"Miss Everdeen," he hisses, spit colliding into my nose. "I suggest coming with me." I spit on his face, my foot slamming into his. He howls in pain, flying backwards into a glass-covered table.

"Nice," mutters Gale sarcastically. The rest of the men attack, flinging weapons I hadn't seen before. I pull out my bow and shoot an arrow randomly, hearing it hit flesh even over the noise they make. Gale grabs my arm and drags me away, the small pub revealing nowhere to hide.

"What do we do?" I cry, as the men trek towards us, almost zombie-like.

"This," shouts Gale, whipping a knife from his belt and flinging it at someone. I squeeze my eyes shut as it meets their heart and they fall with a wail, their throat gargling blood.

"What's wrong with them?" I whisper, watching them move slowly towards us. One manages to throw a heavy glass, but it smashes feet away from my head.

"I don't know," hisses Gale, "But you need to go. Duck under their legs- run out."

"I'm not leaving you."

"Damn right you are," he says, grabbing my shoulders and turning me to face him. He looks like he might kiss me but instead he draws back and throws another knife.

"Just go!" The words seem to wake me up, as I scramble to the ground and slide under a pair of fat legs. I don't know where I'm going as I push through a sea of bodies, but the door is in sight and I head for it, slashing an arrow around. I reach it, pushing open the heavy wood and heading back into the rain. I slam it behind me, breathing hard as I collapse in the mud and tuck my arrow back into its sheath. The strangest attack ever, I think to myself. I hurry to one of the windows, staring in at the crowd. They seem to have sped up, attacking with knives and heavy glasses. I push open the window and stick my head, immediately met with the smell of smoke.

Someone lit the place on fire.

"Gale!" I scream, pushing my whole body through and hopping onto a table, ignoring Gale's attempts to keep me out. I shoot a few arrows as the men run towards me. They scream horrible things, making my ears ring and my heart jump.

"Your baby is dead!"

"Willow Willow, weeping Willow!"

"Where's Peeta now?!"

How do they know all these things? Fear collides with hysteria and I shoot faster, wishing I had a gun. A few men fall but my hands shake so badly I can't load another arrow. The fire is bigger, coming from the kitchen and into the dining room. I don't see Gale anywhere.

"Gale!" I scream again, jumping down from the table. Most of the men are distracted by the fire, trying to get out of the heavy door before it spread even worse. I look out the window but don't see Gale among them. My heart races even faster as I run back in, the smoke starting to get into my lungs. My vision is still clear as I run through the panicking men, shouting for Gale.

"Gale!" I'm sobbing now, feeling like I've fallen into one of my nightmares. I climb a set of stairs, my bow long forgotten since the men have found their way out. I run down a small hallway and into room after room. But I can't find him. I run back to the dining room but I can't go in with the flames already bigger than before.

Then I hear him scream.

It's not a normal scream, it's a scream straight from the gut, filled with need and agony. But it's definitely his. It's coming from the kitchen, right where the fire is coming out of. I throw off my bow and arrows, preparing myself to go in. One moment; I stop to think. But it takes only two seconds to remember he's worth it and I fling myself into the flames. The smoke fills me up, making me cough and taste bile in my mouth. I throw open the kitchen doors, the flames licking my feet and ankles. The smoke starts to make my eyes water, staining my cheeks with ash filled tears. Something falls and I hear a horrible crack as it lands on a body.

"Gale!"

"Katniss." The words are quiet and I barely hear them, but there he is, a limp body laying against a back door, his fist still raised as he tries to pound his way out.

"Oh god," I mutter, jumping over a fallen beam and running to his side. The fire rages on, causing more to fall right by us.

"Gale, we have to get out," my voice comes out hoarse and broken. The ash collects on my body, another beam smashing down by my feet. The roof is going to come down soon, I can tell.

"Gale, get up," I beg, hooking my hands under his arms and dragging him to stand. Then I see where the scream came from. His whole calf is darkened with a burn, like it's boiling his flesh for dinner. I pull him up higher, the heat causing me to break out in sweat. I lay him by a counter, trying to push open the back door. Something is blocking it but I can't see what. I kick it hard but that only makes my foot throb in pain. Another beam down. The roof creaks and whines as the fire blazes closer to us and closer to our death. I wonder if we'll run out of air or if the roof will kill us first. No, I won't die here. I drag Gale further away from the flames, his eyes closed and chest heaving.

"God, no," I whisper. I cough hard, collapsing next to him. The fire is mere inches away, looming higher than my head. I tuck my head into his chest. I give up. I can't carry him through the fire and I won't leave him here with a blocked door. No windows. I grip my head trying to calm my breathing so I can die peacefully. Burning to death is not how I would choose it, so I beg the roof to fall faster. I turn to Gale's sleeping face, his lips parted as he catches his last few breaths. I know if he was awake he'd tell me to run. He'd get me out even if it meant his own death. The fire is almost to my boots now, so I pull both our legs up.

"Gale?" I whisper, "I'm so sorry." I place my chin on his shoulder, my lips softly touching his cheek. I feel like I'm going to cry, but I hold it back and kiss him instead. My lips softly brush his before I press hard and put my arms around his neck. At least I gave him what he wanted. Or what he used to want. He can have that before he dies.

Only waiting now.

0o0

A/N

Please please please review and tell me what you think so far! I love to hear feedback, negative or positive. I also love to know who is reading. Thank you! :)


	7. Chapter 7

A/N

I know, if you've read my other Hunger Games story, this is kind of like it. But I PROMISE it's going to get better and more different than "Ended." I really hope you keep reading and if you aren't enjoying it, let me know what seems a bit off! I love suggestions.

0o0

Drums. They pound in my ears. Why won't they stop? I try to clench my teeth but I don't have any. I don't exist, just floating motionless in between death and life. Then I drop.

My eyes fly open and my chest heaves, heart slamming against it. I cough hard, my throat on fire. I can't stop with my whole body heaving and my lips dried and cracked, my tongue running over them like it's over a knife. Then I realize where I am. White light makes my hands look pale and tiny, my eyes wide and bloodshot in the reflection of a clean wall. I cough up a little blood into my hands, the sight of it making my head whirl. I manage to peel myself off the cot, looking around the bright room. Besides me and my bed, there's only a small counter with a computer, a door, and a little stool sat in the corner. I lick my lips again, wishing I had a cup of water. I head to the door, my whole body in morbid pain as I push it open and stumble into a hallway.

"Hello?" I try to say but it comes out as an ungodly hiss, my throat burning in agony. Then my memories flood back and I fall into the wall, overcome by the need to remember. Gale. The fire. The zombie men with their glasses and their words. Tears fill my eyes but they are too dry to start my sobbing. My whole body aches, burns covering my skin. Then I notice someone has changed me into a white paper sheet, covering my thighs and shoulders, but leaving my arms and calves to be freezing in this unknown place.

"Gale," I gasp, wondering if he's dead. Why am I not dead? Did the rebels find us and kidnap us? Or do we actually have people to help? I make my way down the hall, each step like a stab in the side, the lights making my eyes hurt. It's empty except for a few maid carts filled with cleaners and sheets. I find the first door- just ten feet from my own- and push it open, my head poking in to look around. It's just like my room, but the cot is unoccupied and the computer is turned on. Perfect. I slip in, scooting the stool over, bending my back to a painful place. I drag it to the counter, flicking on the hologram computer and sliding out the keyboard. A message flies up: **PASSWORD REQUIRED. **It gives me a place to type it.

"Damn," I mutter, but it comes out more like an unreadable croak. I try tapping in some random things, like Willow's name, or Capitol. But nothing works. I give up and am about to leave, when the door opens for me.

"Miss Everdeen." A man's voice issues from the figure in front of me, dressed in a thick white suit with a netted mask over it. Looks like a new kind of Peacekeeper. My first instinct to grab my bow, but that was long taken away from me. I think about tackling him, but with his thick suit and big hands, he'd probably crack my neck in half like a toothpick. I decide to stay put.

"I need you to come with me," he says. I want to ask why but I know he won't understand me past the scratchiness living in my throat. I simply stand up, every muscle screaming, and follow him back out into the brightly lit hall. I wince with each step, but he seems not to notice as we make our way towards a big wooden door. He has a large gun strapped to his back, which I didn't notice before. His glove has a weird bracelet above it, with a keypad of numbers and other random buttons. Probably to call for help. Or when it's time to kill me. Having no form of speech gives me a disadvantage, but if I could just get to his neck I could probably strangle him.

He stops at the door, giving it two good knocks before grasping the handle and pulling it open. He pulls it back for me and waves me forward, into a darkened room. I shake my head vigorously, trying to glare hard at him but having trouble with my dry face. He just pushes the small of my back, shoving me inside and slamming the door. I can barely hold my own weight and the push lands me on my hands and knees, my heart still thumping faster than it should.

"Hello?" It sounds like I could be saying anything, but the person in this pitch dark room seems to understand.

"Hello," they answer. British accent. Male. The lights click on and I realize I'm kneeling on thick red carpet, a fancy room around me. There's a roaring fireplace, two huge armchairs, a big rug, and many paintings upon the high walls, each frame in glowing gold. It's like I've stepped back into Snow's mansion, but I know it's somewhere else. The smell of dirt fills my nose and I realize we must be underground. Someone sits in one of the armchairs, holding a cup of tea and turned just perfectly so I can't see their face.

"Do come sit," he says, "I shouldn't forget my manners at a time like this. Sorry for all the mystery but we realized you should wake up in a hospital, seeing as that's what you're used to." I want to snap at him for bringing up memories of that stupid war, but I just get to my feet and hobble over to the other seat. He's a thin man, with spiky gray hair and a small mustache, just to cover the place between his nose and upper lip. He holds a cup of a foul smelling tea, his bright blue eyes watching his hand as he mixes in sugar. The eyes pierce through me when he looks up, and not even I can keep glaring without having to look away.

"Do you want to kill me?" he asks simply, as if questioning about the weather. I don't grace him with an answer.

"Do sit, please," he says again, setting down his disgusting tea and patting the empty chair. I sit, but on the very edge, my hands fluttering with nerves. I clear my throat, feeling like its bleeding from all sides.

"Who are you?" I manage to ask, my voice cracking at the end.

"My name is Sebastian," he says, "Sebastian Savio. And you are Katniss Everdeen."

"Mellark," I hiss.

"Oh, yes, the happy couple," he says, a cocky smile tugging at his mouth. "You are happy aren't you?" Again, I don't answer him, just keep my eyes fixed on his nose, not those hurtful eyes. His eyebrows, creased in concern and showing off his wrinkles, are thin and wiry. He looks old. But not in a fragile way; in the strong demeaning sort of way, like a grandfather scolding you for taking too many treats. He's so easy to read, yet there's so many mysteries behind the sharpness of his eyes.

"Let me talk for you Miss Mellark," he says, "You don't know me, yet I know everything about you. I know where you've been for the past years, I know your child's birthday- I even know what the last meal you had was. And I know you need a lot of help. Your daughter, Willow, is in grave danger."

"Where is she?" I rasp, clenching the arms of the chair, my whole body on edge.

"She's safe, for now," he says, "But it won't stay that way. They also have your friend, Mr. Hawthorne."

"Gale." My hands go to my mouth, eyes filling with tears. This can't be happening. "Then why-" I say each word with disgust- "Am I here and he is not? You sound like a _safe _person."

"Because we were too late," he says, "Our only priority was getting you and with the rebels arriving at the same time, there was no choice but to escape while we had you."

"You could have killed the rebels," my voice is returning despite the need for a drink. My anger boils, threatening to spill at any minute. "They have my child and my best friend." My voice cracks at the word best. I sound weak; like I can't deal with this news. Maybe I can't. Sebastian takes his tea and hands it to me, his hands completely steady and almost reassuring in a way. I take it without questioning the drink and sip it quickly, letting it warm my throat. I feel guilty at once, knowing Gale could be being tortured at this very moment, without a glimpse of water or food in his future. I set the cup down.

"How do I know if I can trust you?" I ask.

"Because I have this," he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small gold item. My Mockingjay pin. I gave it to Plutarch for safe keeping when I couldn't bear to look at it because of Prim. He swore he'd keep it for me under lock and key.

"What if you killed him and took that?" I challenge.

"That man has more security than I could dream of," says Sebastian, "I don't think we could get past even the front door guards." I decide to believe him for now. I take a small drink of the tea but it's cold now and does nothing to help.

"What happens now?" I ask.

"We are going to get back Willow and Mr. Hawthorne," he says, "We know the rebels are prepared for this, but we've been planning for a while now."

"Do you know Haymitch?"

"No, we don't work for him."

"Who do you work?"

"We are an independent company, prepared to help make the country better."

"Why haven't we heard of you?"

"We weren't ready to show our faces until we were needed. Now seems like a good opportunity." There are too many mysteries behind his words, but I merely nod and stop talking so my throat won't burn so much. The man in the white suit comes back, but his helmet is off, revealing a rugged face with messy brown hair. Sebastian sends me away to get cleaned up and the man in the suit takes me to a bedroom down the hall. It's still white and clean but there's a real bed and a wardrobe. As soon as I get inside and lock the door, the tears pour down my cheeks. I'm losing everyone I love. I fall onto the bed, sobbing into my pillow, looking positively pitiful I'm sure. I try to calm my breathing but it just makes my chest ache and I cough up more blood onto my pillow. I gasp for air, sitting up and crying into my knees. When I finally calm down, I wish I could pass out again, be nothing for a few hours. Keep the terrible thoughts away.

But instead I get up and open the wardrobe, grabbing a shirt, sweater and jeans. I change out of the papery nightgown and finding a brush, run it through my dirty hair before braiding it down my back. I don't feel like Katniss Mellark anymore. I feel like some unknown girl, in an unknown place, with injuries I've never had and the dangers that plague me constantly. I find beyond another door, a small bathroom with running water. I wash my face and hands, my burns fighting against the chill of the water. There is no mirror but the walls are still so clean I can see the dark circles and skeleton face that is me. I grip the sides of the sink and cough more blood, washing it down the sink with a spray of water.

I go back to the bedroom and finally notice my bow, leaning against the wall. But it's no longer a bow, just pieces snapped in half by fire and ash. The sheath of arrows is only an empty leather case, blackened and burned. I scream, splitting my throat open as my foot flies across the burnt items, kicking them across the room and into the other wall. I want to cry again but I know I have zero time. I have to get Gale and Willow and keep them close for the rest of my life. I won't lose anyone again.

I can't.

0o0

A/N

Whew, thanks for reading! This might be my longest chapter ever, up to 2,000 words! Anyway, I felt really confident today and might even do another chapter. Thanks again :)


	8. Chapter 8

The first thing I get is a thick coat and a gun, attached to my side with a belt.

"I don't use guns," I protest as Sebastian taps away at a computer. We're in the empty room again where I tried to figure out their password.

"Well I don't have a bow princess," he says, his face starting to look more like a snake than a human.

"And I don't have any patience," I say, taking another large drink of the water he gave me. He just shakes his head and sends something on the computer.

"I am in contact with Haymitch," he says, "Officially. We're going to meet them."

"Now?"

"Yes, him and Mr. Mellark." Peeta. My chest hurts at the thought of facing him. He has probably worried more than he should but I still don't think he'll be very forgiving. I pull out my gun and examine it. It's black and ugly, like ashes, with a trigger to stop a heart; who makes something so stupid? It's so easy to kill with this, unlike a bow. I tuck it away and walk to the door, laying a hand on the knob.

"Can we go?" I ask. Sebastian taps something quickly into the computer before turning it off and getting to his feet.

"Yes, of course," he says, sounding a bit nicer now. "We'll take the hovercraft." We leave the computer room and head back to the hallway, passing the wooden door and down to a huge garage door. Sebastian types a key code into a scanner in the wall and it opens, revealing a large garage with a Capitol hovercraft. We cross the platform in silence, taking the long walk up the metal stairs to the flying device. I take my seat inside, the metal cold against my skin even with my pants covering my legs. I rub my hands together, breathing into them to stop the cold as we rise up out of the garage and fly out with an ear pounding rush of wind. My thoughts try to run to Peeta, but I just focus on staying warm and not passing out from nerves. The wind whips by through the clear window, snow getting thicker and thicker with each thrust of the engine. I cling to the sides of the chair, just waiting for us to land so I can get this meeting over with. Sebastian has left me to go check with the captain, but the loneliness is soothing.

We finally land after about twenty minutes and Sebastian comes to get me, his hands wrapped around a small bundle. My heart aches wishing it were Willow but I know that's impossible.

"What is that?" I ask.

"Nothing of your concern," he answers sharply, jabbing the button to open the door of the hovercraft. We head out into the cold, my hands crossed over my chest, trying to hold in the warmth I left behind. There's a small building in front of us, coated in snow but showing a small golden light emitting from a window. I run to the door, shoving it open with my body and collapsing against the floor. I get to my feet immediately, finding myself staring into the eyes of Haymitch and Peeta. Haymitch, his usual wrinkles a little longer now, is holding a cup of whiskey and staring at me like he's going to kill me. Peeta's face is a mix of concern, hate and fear. I have no idea what to do. I stand dumbly, my hand still rested against the door.

"You are such an idiot," says Haymitch, his tone almost loving in a way. He stands up, leaving his drink forgotten and throws his arms around me, his mouth right by my ear.

"Be careful with Peeta, he's delicate," he hisses, pulling away right after he says it. Delicate. My absence may have brought back the thing I fear most. His hacking. That cold shaky fear that I am a danger to him and our child. I stare at Peeta, trying to see past those bloodshot eyes into a man I know. He stands up, his hands shaking around a cup of alcohol I didn't notice before.

"Peeta..." I begin to say, ignoring Sebastian's poke in my back. Then Peeta steps forward, setting his arms around me gently in a hug.

"I'm really sorry," I whisper. The hug is cold and awkward at first, but then I wrap my arms around him and lay my head on his shoulder. He doesn't say anything, just rubs my back softly before pulling away. I finally notice where we are. It's a tiny little cabin with a fireplace, kitchenette and a table with four chairs.

"Why are you here?" I ask. Outside looked like an abandoned town.

"It's safe," says Haymitch, "They're onto us and they want to drag us in too. They think the more of your friends they collect, the more you'll give up to save them all."

"That's their plan?"

Peeta finally speaks, "Yes. But we won't let it happen. We know where they're at."

0o0

It's awkward flying in the hovercraft next to Peeta who has new cuts and bruises since I last saw him. He's silent, twirling a photo between his shaking fingers.

"What is that?" I ask, placing a hand on his wrist to keep his own steady.

"Willow," he says simply. "Someone took it on the day she was born. That's how they found out about her." I just nod and look over at Sebastian and Haymitch. They seem to be skeptical of one and other but they whisper softly over plans.

"We'll save her," I say, turning back to Peeta.

"What about Gale?"

"Of course." My face creases in worry. "Are you jealous or something? Worried I'll choose him?" I don't mean to be so flamboyant with my words but they fall out like I can't stop them.

"No," he says, "Just worried you'll leave again and meet up with someone and you'll forget me." I bite my lip hard. He's right. He has every reason to be worried.

"I'll never forget you," I say, looking down at my hands uneasily. "How could I?" The images of years past slip through my mind, reminding me of everything I've done for and with Peeta. No, I won't be forgetting him anytime soon.

Haymitch gives me a nod and we land, bumpy and uncomfortably on rocky ground.

"Where are we?" I ask.

"Remains of an old landmark," says Haymitch, "People used to visit and climb around on these rocks. Grand Canyon they called it. This is where they're hidden."

"How did you find it?"

"An old Peacekeeper went in for us," he says, "He died getting information but managed to beam us a signal." I swallow hard, wondering if we'll have the same fate. I help Peeta up, but he still won't look me in the eyes. It's like he can't. Haymitch opens the door and I am met with more snow in my face.

Except this time, I don't expect to see the barrel of a gun pointed right between my eyes.

0o0


	9. Chapter 9

I know I should be scared but I'm just _not. _

Too many a times a gun was in my face and I didn't die.

Too many a times someone showed mercy or mistake.

Peeta grips my arm and I feel someone slide my weapon off my back as I keep my eyes fixed on the gun. The person holding it has a thick black glove on, probably to escape the bitter cold already flying into the hovercraft. They lower the pistol and I can see their face. Someone I've never met before, with a head of thick dark hair and a scraggly beard. They wear dark winter clothes, illuminated only by a white light coming off a lamppost. The most noticeable thing about him though, is the deep red scar across his eye, forcing it almost halfway shut.

"Take them away," he mutters and a few guards behind him come towards us.

"Don't fight them," hisses Haymitch, his lips by my ear for only a second before someone ties my hands behind my back and places a warm binding over my eyes. My heart starts to panic but I calm it down by knowing this could lead me to Willow and Gale. I stumble through snow, not sure where I am at all. We make our way through the cold until my feet meet warmth and it feels like we're inside. We step onto a dinging mechanism (an elevator, I guess) and it pulls us down, the pressure in my ears popping. It stops with a guttural noise from the inside, as I hear the doors slide open. Old, rusty, I note. Someone pushes me out onto a stone floor, my boots tapping across it and echoing around a large room. I calm my breathing again, thinking about being home and by the fire, holding Peeta's hand and kissing Willow's head. I know he's next to me, I can hear his breathing as they shove him along. Haymitch and Sebastian must be behind us.

We keep moving until someone pulls off the blind fold and pushes me into a cell. No. I won't be trapped. I jump up at once and cling to the bars, staring after the guard, watching him place Haymitch in the one next to me. Then Sebastian with him. I'm alone. Then I see the guard head back to the elevator, his arm still clinging to Peeta's sweatshirt hood, my husband not even trying to fight. Anger swells inside me.

"NO!" I scream, reaching an arm out like I can bring him back. "DON'T TAKE HIM!" No one tries to stop me from screaming or fighting to get out. No one cares that my only love is being taken from me and up to some mysterious place. Tears fall down my face, making holes in the dry dust underneath me.

"Katniss, you have to calm down," whispers Haymitch from his cell. He's looking at me with such pity, like I'm a wounded deer.

"They took Peeta!" I sob, my voice hysterical. I hate them. I want to kill them. I want to drive an arrow into every single one of them.

"They're just trying to shake you up," he says, "They want you scared sweetheart, they want you at your weakest."

"I'm not weak!" I yell, my voice echoing across the room. My chest hurts and I need to rest. I give Haymitch a glare before stumbling over to the corner and lying down in it, my knees stuck to my thighs. Sebastian doesn't say anything, but rolls over and tries to sleep as well. I ignore them both, my heart heavy and my throat still burning, reminding me that this is my fault.

0o0

I don't sleep much, but after an hour of finally keeping my eyes shut and my body relaxed, I am awoken by the sound of my cell door being unlocked. I stand up right away, my guard up. It still looks like night down here but that only increases my fear that this is really underground. The guard at the gate opens the door, gesturing for me to walk out.

"Where's Peeta?" I ask, but it comes out scratchy and maybe unreadable.

"Guests are not permitted to ask questions," says the man, in a normal voice but a robotic tone.

"I'm not your guest," I growl, letting him place his hand on my back and move me forward. I glance back to Haymitch's cell but he and Sebastian are gone. My head starts to hurt with all this guilt pressing down on me.

The guard jabs my back, making me go into the elevator. He presses a random button and we shoot up just a few floors, the click of the elevator an unsettling noise. It stops and the doors open with a ding, revealing a small room with a table and two chairs at it, one occupied by the man who held the gun to me. The guard says nothing, just pushes me forward yet again. I walk to the empty chair and sit down, my eyes fixed on the man's cold dark ones. He's hard to read, with his solemn face. He isn't terrifying like Snow, with his wrinkles and scowls. He looks half-worried, half-angry. I can't bear to look at him much longer.

"Hello Miss Everdeen," he says, running a hand through his wavy hair. "Do you know why you're here?"

"Probably because you want to kill me," I say at once.

"Indeed," he says, "But really, I just want you to understand a few things first. Some things that most definitely will blow your mind."

"I doubt that," I say cockily. He doesn't answer, just stares at me, his mouth in a thin line. The glare makes me shiver. He taps the table twice and a small holographic keypad appears, floating just above the smooth table. He types in a few numbers then a hologram appears on the white wall, with a password needed. He types in some random numbers, too quickly for me to memorize or tell what they are.

"Do you know this man?" he asks. A picture flies up, the face so recognizable, but one I've only seen in my dreams recently. My father. My senses awaken at his face, those thin eyebrows and early wrinkles making him look wiser than his age. His usual miner clothes, dirty and wrinkled, look so familiar I almost break into a grin. His hair, pushed back with ash and grease is smooth against his balding head.

"Where did you get this picture?" I whisper, realizing I've gotten up and walked over to it.

"We've had it for a very long time," he answers, "Many years, many copies. I have more." The picture vanishes and another takes its place. Him in a suit. He never wore a suit.

"When did you take this?" I ask, turning around to look the man directly in the eye.

"Right before he died."

"He never wore suits." My voice is shaking.

"He did once."

"W-when?" I try to sound angry but it just comes out like a scared child.

"Pity I couldn't kill him faster." The words sink in all too quickly and I feel like clawing at this man's chest until I reach his heart.

"Kill him faster?" Now I'm angry. I grit my teeth, keeping a hand to the wall to have my father closer than he's been for so many years.

"We brought him here," says the man, "We gave him a suit, running water, and a job offer. We said he could help us overthrow Snow. We asked for a photo, so we could remember him among all the others. He was still thinking it over. Finally, he gave us the answer. It was a no. He said he didn't want to get into a war and he didn't want his family to be in danger. He told me how they'd just had a baby, named Prim. How she was a beautiful angel with a head of honey-colored hair, just like her mother. Then I told him I understood and he left. Sorry about the mine accident, but that's all it was. A little premeditated _accident_." My cheeks heat up, my whole body twitching to kill him.

"You're lying."

"And then you went and killed Prim. Pity, could've kidnapped her too."

"Don't you dare-!" I scream, lunging for him but being brutally pulled away by a pair of handcuffs. The guard is still here, behind me silently when I hadn't noticed him before.

"Sit down," hisses the man at the table, his expression dangerous now. "Do not expect mercy, do not expect anything more than a quick bullet to the brain once all the theatrics are over. I will not let you escape, I will not let you live and I will not let you see your family." He stands up, kicking his chair back while I gasp for air, my whole body being wrenched back by these handcuffs, my arms in pain. _He's a liar,_ my brain whispers, _a liar. _

"Ta ta." He says, opening and closing the door. The guard tosses me to the ground and leaves as well, clicking a lock to keep me in. I wriggle from the loose handcuffs, my wrists red and bleeding. My sobs come out hard and raw, my stomach heaving to keep up with my fast paced heart. I grip the floor, squeezing more red liquid from my wrists. When I can finally breathe again, I focus on my thoughts. My father. My father who was more peaceful than I thought. My father whose daughter I was responsible for killing. For getting involved. For not eating those damn berries. I will always have to fight for what I created, always have to feel his guilt weighing on top of everything else.

Because in my mind, he's as alive as he was twenty years ago.

0o0

A/N

Hi! Tell me what you think in the reviews. Get excited, next chapter we get to see what's happening to everyone else. Whew! Thanks for reading.


	10. Chapter 10

It might only be minutes, maybe only hours, but that doesn't comfort me as sit in the corner, rubbing my wrists and staring at the man in the picture. I finally get up and go to the door, giving a meager pound with my fist.

"Let me out," I say, raising my voice with each word. What do they even plan to do with me here? I stumble over to the computer, feeling lightheaded from not eating. I swipe the picture aside to reveal a needed password. I almost burst into tears.

"I'm not stupid you know," the man's voice suddenly materializes from nowhere, vibrating around the room like a dangerous poison to my ears.

"I don't show mercy, we explained that." I try to push him out, try to ignore everything, but he just keeps whispering each word, clashing with my ears.

"You can come out now," he sounds cocky but I know his face is not. He probably still looks solemn. The door opens with an automatic click and I run out of it, my head still whirling. A guard stands about two feet off, beckoning for me to come towards him. I know I can't win in a fight, but I might be able to run faster.

"Don't run," says the guard like he can read my thoughts.

"Too bad," I hiss, and sprint away from him. _I have to get out, _I think to myself, fighting off the hysteria of being in a closed space so long. _Just get to them and run. _I dash down a stone corridor, with slippery floors. I barely have time to get my bearings but when I realize what I'm slipping on, I almost throw up into my hands. It's blood. Thick, red, blood coating the floors enough so that I splash in it with my boots as I run towards nowhere.

But I don't have time to process this as I hear a guard shout and heavy footsteps. I break into a sprint, the red liquid splashing up onto my ankles and calves. The corridor lights up as I go and I realize I'm running by doors, all with blood leaking out from the bottom. My chest heaves as I stop for a rest, ducking into one of the unlocked rooms to stay hidden. It's dark at first, but a light clicks and I see someone curled up in the corner. He gives a small moan and I realize who it is.

"Gale," I whisper, running to him. "Oh my god what did they do to you?" The blood didn't follow me in here but that doesn't mean he's uninjured. I lift his head up slowly and he stares at me through bloodshot eyes, his face bruised all over. I wrap my arms around him tenderly, my eyes threatening to spill over.

"Katniss, it's not safe," he whispers, "Believe me, I'm happy to see you but you have to get out. If you've made it this far, the elevator can't be very distant."

"I'm taking you with me," I promise, releasing him and holding out his arm to reveal yet even more bruises and even a few cuts.

"You can't, I can barely walk," he says, "I'll slow you down and you know the guards are fast."

"They aren't that bad," I say, smiling a little. "You'll be okay, I promise. I think they expected me to follow directions so well, they didn't foresee me coming to get you and everyone else." I glance around the stone room, the cold starting to make me shiver.

"Katniss, you really can't take me," he says. I bite my lip, knowing I can't leave without him but we'll die if we leave together. I sit down, tucking my knees to my chest.

"Can't I help heal you?" I whisper.

"You can try." My brain buzzes with new ideas as I rip off a piece of my t-shirt and pull up the leg of his pants. He's got many bruises but the worst is his one big burn on his calf.

"Okay, this is gonna hurt," I say, turning on a little spigot next to his head. I wet my fabric and start to wipe at the burn. He hisses in pain but urges me to keep going as I clean off the dirt and start to bandage it up.

"Better?" I ask.

"Better." We sit in silence, both of us seeming unsure of whether to leave yet.

"I'll look out for guards, then you follow me out," I say suddenly, ideas just popping into my head. I run to the door, but the moment I pull it open, a guard marches in, slamming me to the side.

"You idiot," snarls that man, stomping in after the guard. "Don't think I won't kill you just to get it over with. Unfortunately I have more to show you." I need to get to Gale. I need to be next to him and help him up. But a moment later, that isn't necessary.

"Shoot him," says the man in charge. The words leave my mouth right as the gun fires, just a simple "NO!" against all odds of them choosing not to kill him. But it's inevitable. I kneel against the stone like a lost dog, my mouth hanging open, tears pouring down my face. _They didn't kill him, they didn't kill him. _Noise is gone. Every feeling is fleeting except that horrible pounding guilt and shock. I claw at the ground, screaming into its cold stone and pulling at my hair. Tears fall faster now as I look up at Gale's lifeless body, his arms stretched peacefully to the side. The pounding in my ears won't stop.

Anger replaces my shock.

I run to the guard, my heart beating rapidly against my chest and my brain telling me not to. But something evil in me whispers, _"He deserves to die." _I am too fast for them and I grab his gun right out of his hands, pulling the trigger in front of his stunned face. I turn to shoot the man in charge but someone grabs me from behind me and covers my nose and mouth with a white cloth. I inhale heavily. Then there is nothing.

0o0

A/N

Ohhh my stomach turned and I nearly cried writing this part. *shudder* Hope you "enjoyed" it although unless you hate Gale with all your heart and soul, I don't know how you could.


	11. Chapter 11

No one has ever made me hurt so much since Prim died. I want to cry but it's like I've forgotten how, so I bite down on my arm to keep from screaming out. They have tossed me in a cell just like Gale's (the name feels like a stab in the chest every time I think about it) but the man in charge is here with me. The nameless man.

"You think you will always win Miss Everdeen," he says. He looks dangerous now, his lip bit and bleeding. Was he actually nervous? "You think because you won a little baby war, that you can change the world and never have it as it was again."

"What is your plan?" I won't look him in the eye, but the pain of losing Gale is less when I am angry. I clench my fists, the metal of the shackles on my wrists rubbing against my sores.

"My plan is be rich," he snarls, blood spitting from his lip onto my face. "If I am rich, I'll be the next President Snow."

"I don't even know your name, why would I elect you to be a president?"

"No one will have to elect me," he says, chuckling darkly. "I'll have so much money; people will just bow down naturally." His words make me furious, my hands starting to pry at the cuffs with eagerness.

"So get cozy," he says, "I need more information from you." He turns to leave, but just as the door opens, an earth shattering noise booms from nowhere. My body tenses up as the man runs out into the hall, screaming at his guards. He doesn't know what it is. My heart gives a leap. Maybe help is on the way. I hear gunfire and someone shouts my name. Yes, that is help.

"Peeta!" I shout back, "I'm in here!" All of the sudden, the man turns back to me, lunging for my neck and wrapping his hands around it, his knee digging into my chest so I can barely breathe.

"You," he hisses, his voice low and deep like a growling dog. Fear escapes me and I let out a sob. He ignores this. "I will kill you if it is the last thing I do but I want to make it slow because you are the reason he's dead."

"Who?" I choke out, bile rising in my throat and my chest starting to fight for more air. I can't breathe. In and out. It's just stopped.

"Marvel," he gasps, like the name is hard to say. "My son Marvel. You shot him with no mercy." I want to stop him, but his weight heaves down on me and I am starting to feel dizzy. It was just the game, I try to say with my eyes but they are rolling back into my head fast. His fingers close around my neck and then- release? Someone drags him off me, as I suck in air and roll over to the side, my hands shielding any oncoming enemies. I finally open my eyes and look up, seeing Peeta and Haymitch holding the man, Haymitch with a gun to his head.

"No!" I cry, stumbling to my feet.

"Katniss, stay down," says Peeta through gritted teeth, using all his strength to keep the man from getting away. I do want to see him dead. I want to shoot him and watch him bleed out the rest of his life. But that is not me.

"Don't shoot him," I croak, rubbing a hand on my sore chest. God it hurts. "There's been enough deaths today." Peeta just stares at me, his blue eyes so familiar I want to cry. He has new cuts and his forehead looks badly bruised but he's still there. His spirits still seem high. Haymitch looks like he could murder me.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, "Just don't kill him." Gale wouldn't want it that way.

0o0

The boom earlier apparently was Beetee, who we haven't seen in months but managed to find us and blow up half of the security and underground base. Considering we have the boss in cuffs and explosives on hand, the guards leave us alone on our way out. Peeta and Haymitch hold the boss while Sebastian is brought out of his cell, a small bundle in his arms.

"She's sick," is all he says, handing her to me. I open the blanket flap to see the little brimming face, stroked with sweat and red cheeks. Willow.

"We need to get her home," I say to Peeta. He nods and we get everyone onto the elevator. The man tries to ask us what we're going to do with him but Haymitch just smacks a hand over his mouth. A hovercraft ride later, we arrive back at my familiar little cottage, the sun making it look tranquil and peaceful. My mindset is the opposite. Peeta and I hurry in, grabbing the medical kit from the kitchen and laying a cold towel on her forehead.

"What's wrong with her?" I whisper, my eyes brimming with newfound tears.

"Just dehydrated I think," says Peeta, but he looks too nervous for it to be something small like that. He wipes her face as she starts to cry, small and little like the sobs I have been trying to block all day.

"No sweetie it's okay," I whisper as Peeta gets up to get her some water. "Everything will always be okay."

0o0

It was my mistake to keep that man alive. He escaped. He had more connections, more people to make deals with. We know he's hiding away, plotting his revenge, all for the sake of his son and the greed of money.

Willow will learn to kill when she turns thirteen, with a new center for training called Lucha, part of a war force Haymitch is helping to build. She'll be trained and helped to learn to be in a war. No, I don't think it's a good idea. But precautions must be taken and Willow wants to help. She's ten now, only three more years.

I'll have to get all the time with her I can.

0o0

A/N

Well that is the end, however, look out for my new story about Willow's new training. If you've read Divergent, it may be a bit like that but I'll try to make it unique! I hope you enjoyed the story :) I didn't know I'd end it so quickly, but the next one may be longer, if I get around to writing it.


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